Bonaire

Bonaire is a special municipality of the Netherlands that runs on the US dollar (since 2011) — so for American visitors especially there’s nothing to convert. Entry is visa-free (US up to 180 days, UK/EU/Canada 90), and it’s not in Schengen, so a Schengen visa doesn’t substitute.

The two things to arrange before you fly are the fees: the US$75 Visitor Entry Tax and the US$40 STINAPA nature fee, both paid online. Being far south, Bonaire also sits outside the hurricane belt.

Pay both fees online before departure — the US$75 entry tax (QR code checked on arrival, valid 30 days) and the US$40 annual nature fee (its tag shown with ID whenever you enter the water or a park). They’re separate systems on separate sites; sort them both ahead rather than scrambling on arrival.

Bonaire’s identity is shore diving, and it’s organised to make it effortless: the leeward coast is a protected marine park, the dive sites are numbered and marked by yellow stones at the roadside, and you simply drive your pickup to the next one, kit up and walk in. No boat, no schedule, dive after dive.

The signatures are 1000 Steps, the Hilma Hooker wreck, and the reefs off Klein Bonaire. It’s consistently rated among the best and easiest diving on earth.

• Unlimited shore divingSkipbooking out boat divesGothe yellow-stone sites along the leeward coast — drive and dive
• Flat-water windsurfingSkipthe dive coastGoLac Bay / Sorobon on the east
• Flamingos and wild scenerySkipstaying by townGoWashington Slagbaai NP and Goto Meer in the north

Rent a pickup truck (the island norm — tanks ride in the bed) and buy an air/nitrox package from a dive shop, and you can dive the yellow-stone sites at your own pace for days. The only catch is petty theft from parked cars at remote sites — leave nothing visible, and many divers leave the car unlocked with windows down to avoid broken glass.

Just off Kralendijk lies Klein Bonaire (“Little Bonaire”), an uninhabited low islet reached by a short water-taxi hop — home to No Name Beach and a pristine fringing reef that’s a favourite snorkel and dive, and a protected sea-turtle nesting site. There’s nothing built on it: you bring your own shade and water.

The wider marine park, protected since 1979, is the reason Bonaire’s reefs rank among the best-preserved in the Caribbean — the no-anchor, no-take rules have paid off over decades.

Take the water-taxi to Klein Bonaire for a snorkel day, but pack everything — there’s no shade, no shop and no facilities on the islet. It’s the easiest way to see the marine park’s reef at its best, a few minutes from the Kralendijk waterfront.

The north of the island is Washington Slagbaai National Park — 5,600 hectares of arid, cactus-studded badlands with one-way 4x4 driving loops, hiking to the Brandaris high point, and quiet snorkel bays (all covered by the nature fee). Bonaire is also one of the Caribbean’s major flamingo breeding grounds, with the main colony at the southern Pekelmeer sanctuary (closed to the public, beside the salt works) and more birds at Goto Meer in the north.

The south holds the island’s harder history: Cargill’s solar salt works — white salt pyramids and pink brine ponds — beside the restored 19th-century slave huts, a memorial to the enslaved people who worked the pans.

Pause at the slave huts on the southern salt road — tiny stone shelters where enslaved salt-pan workers were housed, now a stark memorial. It’s a sobering counterpoint to the resort-and-reef image, and the clearest marker of the salt trade that shaped the island before diving did.

While the leeward coast is for divers, the east coast’s Lac Bay (Sorobon) is a windsurfing world unto itself — a shallow, flat, mangrove-fringed lagoon with dependable trade winds, equally good for a first lesson and for the pros who race here. The windsurf centres at Jibe City and Sorobon run it.

Kitesurfers head instead to the separate Kite Beach on the south-west, keeping the two sports apart.

Bonaire is flat, dry and small, so getting around is simple — but the standard hire is a pickup truck, with room in the bed for dive tanks and gear, and you drive on the right. There’s effectively no public transport, so a vehicle is near-essential; a 4x4 is worth it for the rough tracks of Washington Slagbaai.

The capital, Kralendijk, is a small walkable town of dive shops and restaurants, with the island’s only airport (Flamingo, BON) just south.

Guard against car break-ins at remote dive sites — it’s the island’s one persistent petty-crime annoyance. Leave nothing of value in the pickup, and take the local advice: many divers leave the truck unlocked with the windows down so a would-be thief doesn’t smash a window to check.

Bonaire has no storm season to worry about — sitting below the hurricane belt, it’s warm, dry and trade-wind-cooled in every month, which is part of why divers can count on it year-round. The only calendar is driest (February–June) versus slightly wetter (October–January).

The sargassum that plagues much of the Caribbean lands only on Bonaire’s windward east (Lac Bay feels it most); the leeward dive coast and the resorts stay clear.

Money is easy — the US dollar, official since 2011, with cards everywhere and an ~8% sales tax baked in — so for US visitors there’s no exchange at all. Prices run relatively high, as everything is imported, and the two prepaid fees (entry tax and nature fee) are the extras to plan for.

Culturally, Bonaire is a Dutch special municipality where the everyday language is Papiamentu (Dutch is official, English and Spanish widely spoken). The island’s older identity is salt and the enslaved labour that produced it; its modern one is diving — a quiet, low-key, conservation-minded place.

Bonaire rewards travellers who come for the water and the quiet, not nightlife — it’s a diving-and-nature island, safe and low-key, where the budget goes on the dive package, the pickup and the two fees rather than resorts and bars. Learn a word or two of Papiamentu; it’s warmly received.